


Inheritance

by softestpunk



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Haytham Kenway has Trust Issues, Haytham POV, He gets over it, M/M, Rope Bondage, Shay's into it don't worry, because of course, it's his idea, what a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: The evening after Shay's induction into the Templar Order, Haytham is woken by a sudden uninvited guest in his room.





	Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> for the trope bingo square: trust and vows
> 
> (also, if you follow me for Witcher fic and you've read this far: do not fret!!! I haven't abandoned the fandom I just [this will come as a shock] have some longer fics in the works so they're not like... finished, yet)

I was barely awake before I was halfway across the room, pinning an intruder who’d come through the window against the wall, hidden blade poised to open their throat at the slightest twitch of resistance.

Shay Cormac’s glittering eyes peered back at me, a broad grin plastered over his face.

“Oh, you _are_ good,” he said, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.

I had chosen this room to sleep in specifically because even I would have had trouble climbing to the window, so Shay, too, had just proved how good he was.

“I could have _killed_ you,” I said, torn between the rush of anticipation for a fight and horror at the fact that I had been a one flick of my wrist away from ending the life of a man who I already felt, after having known him only a few hours, was the best and brightest in the Colonial rite, perhaps the entire Templar Order.

“Not by accident,” Shay said easily.

Such faith.

I’d seen it in his eyes earlier, the look of a man who was gazing on someone he’d follow through the gates of hell because he was so certain of me.

I had done nothing to deserve it, and likely wouldn’t. No one could _deserve_ that kind of instant, utter devotion—except perhaps the late Colonel Monro.

But then I had thought of Shay as a kind of inheritance from a man who was clever enough _not_ to position himself to be Grand Master, but damned well should have been.

“I… well, no,” I said, lowering my blade.

_Probably_.

“Hidden blade,” he nodded to my arm. “Thought I noticed that earlier. Didn’t know Templars had them.”

“Not unless they take them from Assassins,” I said.

The shine flickered out of Shay’s eyes. “Oh.”

I hesitated. There was no need to explain myself to this man, and yet…

“He traded it for his life,” I said, “and my horse.”

The spark of mischief lit up in Shay’s face again, his grin broadening anew. “Did you like the horse, sir?”

“I don’t particularly like any horses,” I admitted. “Unpredictable creatures at best, rebellious at worst.”

“Aye, well, I’d agree with you there, sir. Not a bad trade.”

His shoulders relaxed, and I realised then that I still had him pinned to the wall, his solid chest pressed against mine.

There had never been any fear in his eyes. He _trusted_ me.

I sincerely hoped that wouldn’t prove to be a mistake.

“I would agree,” I said, easing away from him as casually as I could, as though I meant to keep him there so long and had not simply been doing so absentmindedly.

“Was there, umm. Something you wanted?”

He probably hadn’t gone to the trouble of climbing in here just to test my reflexes.

Shay looked me up and down, black diamond eyes shining in the scant moonlight.

“All set to leave at first light,” he said, leaning almost imperceptibly closer, his movements so slow and smooth that in the dark, they were practically invisible. Had my senses not already been so finely tuned to him, I might not have been able to see him at all.

This, I would argue later, was how he took me by surprise.

His fingers curled around the back of my neck, rope and sword and work-callused, and his mouth sealed over mine at the same instant, my startled gasp giving him ample opportunity to thrust his tongue past my lips, silently demanding.

When I’d asked him what he wanted, I hadn’t dreamed _this_ might be the answer.

More strength than I would have expected in his lithe, long-limbed frame pushed me back toward the bed, collapsing into my lap as collision with the mattress forced me to either sit or fall, his weight pinning me down as he kissed ever more hungrily, a starving man left alone with a feast.

It was difficult to believe that Shay had _ever_ starved for company, or that I was the best he could do.

A knot of anxiety tugged in my belly as the thought that he must therefore want something _else_ occurred to me.

I hadn’t intended to show it, but Shay’s senses were just as sharp as mine and he stopped, instantly, and pulled back to look me in the eyes.

“Tie me up,” he said.

_What_?

“Tie me up,” he repeated. “It’s all right,” he continued, soft, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t trust me, but I trust you. So. Tie me up if it’ll make you feel better.”

Would it make me feel better?

Did I _not_ trust Shay? I trusted Monro’s judgement, I trusted that _he_ trusted Shay, but…

Some part of me wasn’t sure. Some gnawing thought in the back of my head that if Achilles’ Assassin’s wanted me dead then Shay was the perfect weapon, physically and philosophically.

And yet this offer would put _him_ at a disadvantage. At my mercy, even.

He climbed off me, and the moment the cooler air of the room replaced his warm body, I came to a decision.

“All right,” I said, standing as well.

Shay’s smile returned at full force. I thought it would be difficult to feign such a flattering response, but then perhaps he was simply pleased at a plan going his way.

“Undress,” I ordered, lighting a lamp to see him by and then heading to a still-packed trunk on the other side of the room to find what I wanted—a length of silk cord that had seemed like the sort of thing that might come in handy some day, just thick enough to be comfortable, I thought, for this sort of thing.

I’d never quite done this before, but I knew my way around a knot and Shay wouldn’t have suggested it if he was concerned by a lack of experience.

I turned to see him pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a network of scars across his torso, a bullet wound at his shoulder the most spectacular mark.

He was stunning, muscles moving fluidly under pale skin, undressing with no hurry of any kind and revealing strip after strip of gorgeous skin, strong calves and beautifully-toned hips, the deep V of the muscles there speaking to a kind of genetic perfection I couldn’t hope to match.

“You’re staring, sir,” he said, settling on the bed once his breeches were folded neatly over the chair where he’d piled his clothes. His shirt would need to be pressed for the morning. If he stayed the night, I’d have someone take care of it.

My gaze dropped to the patch of dark curls between his legs, the faintest blush of interest darkening the head of his neat, pretty cock.

Yes. Quite the perfect weapon, and were I any less cautious I might have gone to my grave a very happy man.

He made a show of laying himself out on the bed, fingers curled around one of the iron crossbars of the headboard, the position showing off the lines of strong, sailor’s arms, thickly muscled.

In a fair fight, we would have been evenly matched.

It was only then I realised Shay had taken both of his blades off. Of course he had, he’d undressed entirely and was laying naked as the day he was born on my bed, one knee raised to best put his elegant lines on display, dark eyes shimmering in the light of the lamp by the bed, full lips just barely parted.

Taking the cord in both hands, I bound his wrists together and to the bed frame, snug but not tight enough to do him any harm. Shay only glanced above his head once, thumb stroking the smooth, soft cord, a tiny smile quirking one corner of his lips.

“Thoughtful, sir.”

“I don’t make a habit of this,” I said, pointlessly. I was surely announcing that in my every action.

He watched me undress with rapt attention, licking his lips from time to time, eyes glittering. Could he really be feigning every sign of attraction?

While I was inclined to believe Shay was a clever man, I did begin to think he was here for reasons that had nothing to do with ending my life.

A low whistle as I opened my breeches sent a rush of warmth to my cheeks, and I was instantly thankful I hadn’t turned the lamp up _too_ high. Just high enough for the warm light to burnish Shay’s pale skin, leaving him glowing like a fallen idol, still showing himself off on the bed.

Finally naked, I approached the bed to look at him, reaching out to run my fingertips along his throat, trailing down the centre of his chest until he gasped, back arching as my touch tickled his navel.

Sensitive.

“Oh, but you are…”

_Perfect_.

If by some miracle I was simply lucky enough to have met a man like this who genuinely wanted me, who looked up at me in bed the same way he’d looked at me when I’d offered him the brotherhood of the Order and all the advantages that came with it…

Well. I would consider that my burdens as Grand Master had been duly rewarded.

Unhurried, I retrieved a bottle of oil and set it on the floor beside the bed, then climbed onto it to join Shay, kneeling between his parted thighs. The temptation to run my hand over the milk-soft skin of them was too great to resist, his breath hitching as I skimmed my palm down the length of the raised one.

I glanced at his hands, still tied to the bedframe, and allowed myself to relax a fraction. If I could have this—if I was _truly_ being allowed it—then I would have everything I wanted since the moment I’d seen him.

A soft kiss to his jaw, a playful bite that made his breath hitch again, and then his lips, so soft, so eager, parting under mine as I worked my fingers deep into his hair, tugging it loose and spreading silky locks out beneath him, impossibly soft for a man who spent so much time at sea.

But Shay was neat. Neat, clean, and well-groomed, a man who took care of himself and his appearance. Monro’s influence, I thought. He’d always been partial to shine on a young man like this, and Christopher Gist’s complete inability to hold a polish had long annoyed him. Shay, though, gleamed like agate.

“You really are very beautiful,” I said, forgetting myself a moment. Then again, if he planned to kill me, what would it matter?

And if he _didn__’t_, I wanted to treat him with all the care I would have shown any other partner. He may have been tied up, but that was no excuse to mistreat him, and I had no desire to in any case.

No. If Shay was sincere in his desire for me, then I would do my utmost to make his body sing with pleasure.

I bent down to indulge in another kiss, claiming his mouth this time, pushing my tongue past his lips to lick his palate, tasting him deep. Shay moaned under me, back arching, the head of his cock skimming my belly and leaving a sticky trail there.

So sensitive, so eager. No, this could hardly be feigned.

“You want me,” I murmured, pulling back to look into his eyes as he nodded, biting his kiss-swollen lip. Shy and sweet and oh so lovely.

Half a thought to untie him and enjoy his touch flitted through my mind, but I batted it away. I _liked_ the sight of him tied up, at my mercy, trusting that I would satisfy him.

That, he was right about. I would _not_ leave him wanting.

“Then I am yours to enjoy.”

Shay grinned at me, stroking my calf with the side of his foot.

Next time, I would leave his hands free.

Tearing myself away from Shay’s mouth, I turned my attention first to his jawline—bold, but not so square that it detracted from his youthful prettiness—and then to his throat, scraping my teeth along the soft flesh and marvelling at him allowing it without so much as a flinch.

He _did_ trust me.

A moment of breathing in the scent of salt air from the crook of his neck, and then I moved on, exploring the expanse of his chest with lips and tongue and teeth.

This would leave a mark on him, under his clothes where only he would know about it. If this was meant to be a kind of swearing of fealty, he would bear the reminder of the promise.

Perhaps he would bear it every time we met, willing and eager under me, favouring me with such sweet gasps and moans for hours when we each had the time.

Ten minutes of Shay Cormac and I was already intoxicated. No _wonder_ Monro was so taken with him.

His deeds spoke for themselves, but his charm would have brought any man to his knees.

“Sir,” Shay purred, shifting his weight, arching his back again. I could have watched his body move for hours, so fluid and easy.

“Yes, Shay?”

His eyes lit up.

I should not have called him that. He was still _Master Cormac_ to me.

And yet he did not seem upset by my lapse in propriety, and perhaps it was slightly unnecessary to worry about it when I already had him naked in my bed.

I was only now realising that this had been _his_ wish, that the thought had never crossed my own mind.

It had occurred to me that he was very beautiful, but not that I might take him to bed and have my way with him, certainly not so completely.

“Do all the new initiates get this kind of treatment?”

I wanted to be annoyed at being teased, but Shay’s bright smile and sparkling eyes were impossible to resist.

“No,” I shook my head, pausing to kiss just below his navel. “But you are a very special case.”

He would be my favourite in a month and I was disinclined to do anything to stop myself forming such an attachment. A thought touched the back of my mind that this was someone I could have, someone who would not be a weakness easily taken advantage of.

Anyone stupid enough to make an attempt on him would see themselves thoroughly regret it for the short, miserable remainder of their life.

He laughed, soft and delighted, squirming under me again as I gave into the temptation of his thighs once more, this time running my lips along the milky softness of them and blatantly ignoring his gorgeous cock.

A whimper escaped him, turning into a broken moan as I bit down, hard enough to bruise, but to Shay’s credit he didn’t so much as strain the ropes.

“I will give you what you want,” I murmured against his skin. “Your patience will be amply rewarded.”

Another whimper as I stroked the flat of my tongue along the underside of his steadily-leaking cock. _So_ responsive. A bright jewel in the Order’s crown if ever there was one.

Keeping up the attention with my mouth, I reached out for the oil on the floor and poured a generous measure onto his belly, letting his skin warm it through before scooping it up. Two fingers glided so easily into him that he might have been made for this, inner muscles fluttering around me with exquisite control.

“I begin to form the impression that I am _not_ the first to do this to you,” I said, watching Shay’s skin flush from his chest to the rise of his cheekbones.

“Not quite, sir,” he gasped as I twisted my fingers inside him, full lips parted, eyes glazed. Pleasure written in every line of his body as I eased my fingers in and out, stretching and teasing, slipping another in for good measure though I doubted he needed it—he may not have needed the first two, his mastery over his own body was exceptional.

His back arched as I brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, air hissing through his teeth.

“I shall aim at the _best_, then,” I said, rocking my fingers in and out steadily, pushing him higher and higher, listening for the telltale gasps and moans, the way his thighs tensed, his breath speeding up until he was hiccuping and writhing, so close he could no doubt taste his orgasm in the back of his throat.

I curled my fingers firmly around the base of his cock just as he was about to peak, my stomach flipping over at the murderous glare he shot my way as I denied him release so viciously.

If Shay wanted my trust, then he would have to play by my rules.

“Ah, there’s that Templar cruelty I always heard about,” he said after just a few heartbeats, his chest still heaving but his mind sharp as ever.

Shay was _dangerous_. Not just physically dangerous, not merely good with a blade and a prodigy when it came to getting into places he shouldn’t have been, but clever, too. So clever.

A low throb of arousal reminded me of my own need, that in denying and teasing Shay I was also denying and teasing myself.

“I can also be kind,” I said, easing my fingers out of him and shifting on the bed, lining myself up, the head of my cock pressed to the hot, slick entrance to his body.

Shay licked his lips, hunger back in full force.

The way he looked at me would have been enough to drive another man to ruin.

As it was, if I didn’t _have_ him, I might have been moved to beg him.

My eyes fell closed as I sank into the heat of his body, tight arousal pooling in my belly at suddenly being surrounded by him, the first time I’d done this in so long that I’d forgotten what it felt like.

Shay’s legs wrapped around my waist, strong thighs squeezing tight, and when I opened my eyes again he was biting his lip and looking at me as though I was the most desirable thing he’d ever seen. I gasped as he tightened around me, a growl rumbling in my throat, hips jerking of their own accord.

“Sorry,” he gasped.

“Don’t be,” I panted in response. “I value—ah—enthusiasm… highly.”

Another vicelike squeeze told me Shay wasn’t in any way sorry, but I was too flattered by his eagerness to care.

The urge to kiss him again proved too strong to resist, his lips soft and pleasure-slack as I claimed them, an earnest moan rolling in Shay’s chest as I shoved my fingers deep into his hair to hold him in place, my free hand curling under his thigh to hitch it up.

Mine. Mine, mine, _mine_.

Shay was everything I wanted and needed and had wished for, the best of Assassin and Templar ideology, the poultice to suck the poison from the wound Reginald Birch had left in my soul, and there was little point pretending otherwise.

I wanted him, and he was promising me that I could have him. That he would do me no harm.

Yes. I would be kind to him. I would train and teach and mould, and as perfect as he had come to me he would be twice as perfect still.

I buried my face against his neck and my cock inside him, rocking the two of us back and forth and listening to Shay’s gasps of pleasure, feeling him relax under me, the last of the tension in his muscles easing as he went boneless under me, finally submitting in full.

A taste of this, I realised, could so eaily be a gateway to addiction.

Yes. If Achilles Davenport had any imagination then Shay was the perfect weapon against me, but he didn’t, and instead had given me, quite by accident, a gift I planned to make the most of.

“You see, Shay,” I murmured, shifting my grip under his knee and pushing it forward, sinking deeper still into his body, savouring the hiss of pleasure I earned in response. “I _can _be kind.”

He turned his head, seeking my mouth, and if I hadn’t been sure before now that I had him, that he was mine to keep, I would be now.

Strong sailor’s thighs squeezed my waist, urged me on, breath catching in my lungs as Shay’s hips rocked to meet mine, his mouth pliant as he accepted my tongue as easily as he had my cock, a hot rush of arousal washing over me at the thought of being so inside him, claiming him so deeply and thoroughly.

_Mine_, a voice in the back of my head growled, and Shay’s responding “_yes,_” told me I’d slipped, given voice to the thought, but that it was welcome and even wanted, his grip on me tightening, chest heaving under me as he panted for breath.

Delightful, needy whimpers spilled from his lips as he approached the edge, strong muscles tensing, the solid iron bedframe creaking under his grip.

“Come for me,” I murmured against the shell of his ear, and no sooner had I said it than the most gorgeous cry escaped him, his hips jerking and his head thrown back as he came between us, hitched breaths with every peak of his orgasm as I kept up the same rhythm, pushing him higher and higher until I followed him over the edge a handful of moments before I’d intended to, the force of it making stars burst in front of my eyes as I too crested my peak and spilled into him.

I rolled away from him after a few glorious moments of hanging at the very height of pleasure, grunting as my back hit the mattress, skin sticky with sweat and still-healing injury reminding me that I might have chosen a position that didn’t require me to bend at the waist quite so much. I would feel this in the morning.

And yet the thought sent sharp thrill down my spine. Shay would remember me, there would be an ache in his own muscles, and the thought of having a matching one…

Well.

Any reminder of what I’d gained in claiming him for the Order—and myself—was a welcome one.

“Master Kenway,” Shay said, breathless, still panting for air, his chest heaving and showing off the toned muscles and the thin sheen of sweat I’d put there, clinging to the attractive dusting of hair.

Dear _God_ he was perfect.

“Mmm?” I hummed, still recovering myself and so deeply sated that I wasn’t inclined to move for anything short of a fire.

“You’re not a sailor, are you, sir?”

I frowned. What a strange question.

“No. No, I’m not. My father was,” I added, wondering if perhaps there was some… sign, something in me that tied me to the sea in the mind of a man who _was_, unquestionably, a sailor. “Why do you ask?”

Shay lowered his arms from where they’d been tied to the bedframe.

“Your knotwork, sir. Leaves something to be desired,” he said, turning a blinding grin on me, his dark eyes sparkling with laughter.

Oh.

“How long have you been…?”

“Since you undressed,” he said, honestly. “Thought it was better not to say anything.”

I opened my mouth to object, to reprimand, or perhaps to defend myself, but closed it again without a word. Instead, I heaved myself up in an act of willpower previously unknown to me, climbed on top of him again, and kissed him once more, humming with satisfaction as his work-roughened hands sought out scars and sensitive places.

He was unquestionably mine.


End file.
